It was nice to hear 'Monkey Man' from the first Specials album on Six Feet Under Tonight.

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Where the pennies have gone at Spellcnut Towers lately:

Howl- San Francisco leather-panted rockers Black Rebel Motorcycle Club made a bluesy/folksy/country classic. Nowt like the first two albums but a brilliant and brave move that has paid off big time.

Supernature - Alison Goldfrapp gets into bed with Roxy Music, Kate Bush, Gary Numan and Donna Summer and produces a short and shiny stomper. She's a proper pop star now.

Lamb remixed - underrated Manchester electronicists gather their best remixes and amaze me why they never went huge.

The Sound Of Glasgow - Orange Juice were the best band from Scotland ever. Postcard Records was the best Scottish record label ever. They weren't indie stars, they were scenesters. My first ever trip to a gay club was to see Orange Juice play. I was 16 and they were playing at a grotty gay joint in Newcastle where the Kitchenware guys held their Soul Kitchen nights. Scary looking cowboy clone men turned up to watch their club be overrun with students and vinyl/fanzine carrying fanatics like me. The Kitchenware DJ's did their best to keep everyone happy with a mixture of disco Clash, A Certain Ratio, 23 Skidoo and superfast hi-energy.

Slanted And Enchanted - This Pavement album brought back so many 1992 memories. Good memories though. This is my favourite Pavement album and this new package is beautiful. Their influence on today's scene is all pervading.

No cloud, no smog and a great view of London from Parliament Hill on Hampstead Heath today. We saw the big chair and desk and sat and watched kites. We drove to Brick Lane on the way home and bought salt beef bagels.

Tarnation was great. A jumbled scrapbook of photo’s, answerphone messages, super 8 movies and video footage about three generations of a family in crisis. It was pitiful and powerful and heartbreaking but ended on a lovely note of hope. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a better documented personal journey through someone’s life.

Somersault was also great. A film about a 16 year old girls loss of innocence and her painful lesson of the difference between sex and love. Every performance was stunning, even the dead-end Aussie skiing town which was overrun with needy and frustrated characters (anyone who grew up in the sticks will relate to this film). On a completely shallow note there were two lovelies in the film (my gaydar twitched when they first appeared on screen together and sure enough an hour later they were kissing). Him and him.

It was a crime that 18th Dye didn’t go ballistic in the early 90’s. Their live shows were very VERY loud and they looked like the coolest mf’ers that ever stomped over to London via Berlin and Denmark. Two boys and a girl made a dense and melodic white noise that used to take my breath away in tiny back-room clubs in Camden. Their two albums, Tribute To A Bus and Done are still played at Spellcnut Towers (when we need that Sonic Youth thrill but with some melody). Anyway, ten years after splitting up they’re back to a play a festival in Sweden. Fingers crossed for a some London dates.

I cycled to work this morning in the pouring rain. I wore my new waterproofs and they turned out to be not waterproof at all. At lunchtime I demanded my money back from the lying sack of shit who sold them to me (“of course they’re 100% waterproof, look it says so on the label”). He coughed up no problem as the shop was packed with potential customers and I was being quite vocal. I ate four raw carrots for lunch (dipped in salad cream) and rented Tarnation and Somersault from the library. I warned Darren that he should finish watching The Assassination Of Richard Nixon before I get home as I’d like to watch both movies tonight and Coronation Street is on twice. I’m also very near completing Roller Coaster Tycoon 3 (at Tycoon level!) and have just bought the add-on pack so I can start playing all over again, this time designing water parks to complement the theme parks. So much stuff to do and so little time to do it. Alain De Botton was right about cultural anxiety. Damn this modern life.

I was walking down Victoria Street yesterday lunchtime when I came across a commotion outside a mobile phone shop. After shouting “move along, move along, there’s nothing to see here” I managed to squeeze my way to the front of the crowd and saw that Derek the GBTFH (gay black tory fox hunter) from Big Brother 6 was sitting on a stool in the window inviting gawpers to take his picture with their mobile phones. Two weeks after leaving the show and he’s a glorified shop window dummy. Still, I bet he’s getting paid more than me so who’s the bigger knobber, me or him? Don’t answer that.

My parents are at our house in Blackpool where my Dad is recovering from pleurisy. I don’t see them too often so have decided to scoot up there tonight and surprise them. I hope I don’t open the door at 10pm tonight and find them ‘entertaining’ the silver-haired swingers of central Blackpool (of which there are plenty I bet). Back on Sunday.

Pussy cat pussy cat where have you been…
…I've been to London to see...
...how the money sucking leeches spend my taxes.
On Saturday we donned our best Hyacinth Bucket outfits and joined the Daily Mail readers of middle England and went to Buckingham Palace to tour the State Rooms and look at her art collection. Pretty impressive in a sumptious and luxurious kinda way. The digital audio guide was excellent and the crowds are kept to a minimum so the whole experience is self-driven and as unhurried as you like. From the front the house looks very boxy and solid but once you enter you realise that it is constructed of four wings around a central courtyard (with lovely red gravel). The decoration, furniture, carpets etc are extraordinary and lavish but don’t look very comfortable. I bet she has a worn-in sofa like this in her private flat (not included on the tour). It was bizarre to be in all those rooms that have been the backdrop for famous photographs over the last 100 years. I’d always wondered what the gardens were like at Buck House and now I know because the exit (after ye gifte shoppe, naturally) is a twenty minute walk past the lake and gigantic weeping willows and dumps you back in noisy and smoggy Grosvenor Place. A surprisingly enjoyable experience, actually.

I knew we’d be mighty thirsty after that tour so I’d booked us in for afternoon tea here. We had champagne, posh sarnies, scones with cream, wee cakes and all washed down with buckets of proper tea. It was pissing down outside so were grateful to be in the very comfortable Windsor Lounge (couldn’t escape the ‘royal’ connections that afternoon) with only a handful of other tea-lovers. Very nice.

We bought some hand-cooked M&S crisps on the way home and watched Casino (uber-violent masterpiece) and Match Of The Day with a supper of crisp sandwiches. I still think Sharon Stone (this site is why I love the internet!) was robbed of the Oscar in 95 as she easily outshines DeNiro and Pesci. Is this your pen?

Well, that was a bugger of a week. Visiting Russian dignitaries kept me on my toes around Whitehall while BA ensured that getting rid of them would be the final headache of the week. Their faces were a picture of pity when they discovered that I'd transferred their BA tickets onto Aeroflot flights! Isn't it great when proud visitors from overseas would prefer to take 18 hours to get home via Cypress rather than 3 hours on their beloved national airline?

It was Darrens birthday on Thursday but he spent most of that day at work on the Isle Of Wight. We know how to celebrate so, when he arrived home, we ordered huge pizza's and opened a bottle of bubbly (aka Pepsi Max). Today we're off on a day out in central London. Can't tell you where as he might see this post when he rises. Needless to say food is involved and he's been warned to wear a smart shirt (and to put a tie in his pocket just in case).

My Dad has pleurisy. He's on antibiotics and bed rest and is improving. I've offered them the use of our Blackpool house for his recouperation and they seem quite tempted. The parents are getting old now and they seem to be susceptible to more and more illnesses. My Dad has had two strokes in the past 10 years and now has a pacemaker fitted. My Mum has had one stroke (following para-gliding in Greece so what did she expect!), she has late onset diabetes and is mildly epileptic. I must check if there is a will prepared next time I'm in Newcastle.

The Incredible Journey, Greyfriars Bobby and Old Yeller all make me wet-eyed. Steel Magnolias, Beaches and Ring Of Bright Water too. My Dog Skip, Bambi, Goodbye, Mr Chips and Imitation Of Life also. Classic tear-jerkers like Gone With The Wind, Love Story, Terms Of Endearment and The Champ didn't raise an atom of moisture from me. I cried at the end of Titanic but that was from the realisation that 4 hospitals could have been built for the price it took to make that piece of sinking syrup. I remember one Christmas morning watching Watership Down on TV with my Dad while Mum peeled potatoes in the kitchen. She came through to the living room with wet hands and a sharp knife to shout at us for not helping her and found us both pretending we had something in our eyes and wintery runny noses.

Do you remember how 'shocking' this photo was in 1983?


Gosford Park
Been a while but here’s some catch-up.
Played croquet at a big country house last weekend. There was Pimms, fresh chutneys and cake. On the way to the country we bumped into Nik Kershaw in the potted meats aisle of his local supermarket. I recognised his face but couldn’t put a name to it until DG (huge Kershaw fan and general 80’s pop aficionado) dropped his shopping basket and rushed over to Mr Kershaw and began to pester him to sign his DG underwear (he did the same thing to Howard Jones last year at the Caravan Show). Nik Kershaw popularised the snood during his 'spell at the top' in the 1950's but now only dogs seem to find the snood fashionable.
There was a horticultural quiz (which Darren won) and at sunset the hostess arranged for two gigantic hot air balloons to sail over us and drop scented petals into our hair.

On Sunday I did nothing. At all.

Yesterday I went to the ancient Indian city of Leicester. I met Paul Smith's accountant, I chastised an engineering company for dodgy contract dealings in Iraq and I nearly finished the first Lucifer Box novel on the train home. I wore a single breasted light grey suit (not Paul Smith) with black brogues.
In the evening mad Liz turned up with warm fresh-baked scones wrapped in a tea cloth (to stop them sweating). Liz is our favourite spinster and will be moving to Blackpool with us to be our live-in housekeeper.

It's Darren's birthday on Thursday so I'm just popping out to the Barbour shop to collect a pair of monogrammed green wellies I ordered for him.

Like a smartly dressed version of Interpol, Editors stomped into Spellcnut Towers and refuse to leave the stereo. Joy Division and Echo And The Bunnymen comparisons are just lazy words. If you like Coldplay you will hate this CD. Violent drumming, aggressive vocals (the singer has a lovely deep range) and squealing, high pitched guitars make this a noisy and beautiful package. 'Fingers In The Factories' is a classic stomper which slaps you across the face then gives you a dead arm. AND it's on Kitchenware! (Newcastle record label and once the poor mans Postcard. Postcard folded but Kitchenware blossomed and gave us Prefab Sprout and the brilliant Fatima Mansions).

Classy BBC show Coast is on TV tonight and they've reached Blackpool. Watch the team get pissed on Bacardi Breezers, throw-up at The Pleasure Beach and shag local chav lads under North Pier (it's not Britains premier seaside resort for nothing you know).

BB6 in the USA has a similar situation on their hands as us with Craig and Anthony. Except their straight guy seems to be a bit more 'up for it' than Anthony is (the big 'ol white boy is the straight one by the way).
(from Towleroad)

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Blimey! Every second of the day a new blog is created.

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Mr Depps Willy Wonka hair-do has been around for years.

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Doggy style

Jake was the only non-human to swim the cold, choppy waters from Alcatraz Island to the shores of San Francisco in the 10th annual Alcatraz Invitational Swim last weekend. The four-year-old, 65-pound golden retriever paddled the 1.2-mile swim in under 42 minutes and finished in 72nd place – out of 500. Jake and his roommate, Jeff Pokonosky (woof!), swam together. "He was very focused," Jeff said of his swim partner. "He started out really fast. I was trying to slow him down. He increased his pace to stay with the pack." It's not weird, but Jake and Jeff live in San Diego, where they enjoy long walks along the beach together, bodysurfing, and swimming four miles a day. We heard a rumor that they like to pick up bitches together, too. (from WoW)

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I bought a book at the airport in 1982 about Warhol superstar Edie Sedgwick. I read it while bimbling up and down the Eastern seaboard that summer. I researched the haunts and hell holes in NYC that feature in the book. Then I moved on and stopped being obsessed. Last year a movie was announced based on Edie's life to be called Factory Girl and was to star Sienna Miller. Then Sienna pulled out due to theatre commitments and Katie Holmes (aka Tom's beard) was fingered for the role. Oh dear, having a posh English girl play New Yorks most famous 60's drug addict was bad enough but Katie Holmes? Katie is just too soapy clean. No. Won't have it. Yesterday I heard Sienna is back on board but today I read that she is six weeks pregnant with Judes baby. Can I suggest Amanda Peet please? I'm convinced she based her role in Igby Goes Down on Edie and she was fantastic.

3 months until Michael Clark resurrects his classic 'O' at the Barbican. We've got our tickets so make sure you get yours soon as this baby is selling like hot cakes. More deets for modern dance peeps. Stick your Riverdance up your arse.

Watched movies yesterday. Went to Greenwich to see Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Loved it. Tim Burton back on form after the awful Big Fish. Mr Depp chose to base his Willy Wonka on a hilarious hybrid of Michael Jackson and John Inman in 'Are You Being Served?'. Naturally, the movie looks stunning, breathtaking even, and should have theme park designers wetting themselves (I spotted at least three future rollercoasters in various scenes). Twas nice to see the one-armed dishwasher from 'Robins Nest' in a major Hollywood movie.



Spent the rest of the evening eating Hagen Dazs and watching DVD's. The Magic Roundabout was so disappointing. I knew the reviews had been bad but I still expected a few redeeming moments. None. Not a jot. Some movies are aimed at five year olds but work hard at keeping Mum and Dad on the sofa too (Pixar, most Disney etc) but this horror film simply expected the kids to be plonked in front of it while the parents/babysitter/big brother and his boyfriend went upstairs for a ninety minute sweaty sesh. Luckily, once it was over, my lovely memories of the original anarchic TV show were still intact.

French animated film Belleville Rendevous was brilliant! (check out that website, it's one of the best I've ever seen) Remember the scratchy type animation that Frank Thomas did for Disney in 101 Dalmations and The Aristocats? Well this film used that style and mixed it up with 2D and 3D scenery which made it look fantastic. The story is subtle and simple; young boy lives with crippled granny then becomes French cycling hero then get kidnapped by mafia and sent to a BIG city and is rescued by Granny and her dog and a trio of 1930's chanteuses. Tres bon film!.


The Last Castle is a prison movie not unlike The Green Mile or Shawshank in that it dealt with the power of the human spirit. This one is set in a military prison (porno potential ahoy!) and featured James Gandolfini as the 'bad' warden and 110 year old Robert Redford as the 'good' prisoner. Not a single shower scene meant that I thought it was a mediocre film. Best bit was discovering real-life bad boy and ex prison inmate turned actor Brian Goodman. He even got to lie on top of naked Keifer Sutherland in 24!

The chuckle brothers.
Of course I stayed in last night. Watched four episodes of Strangers With Candy then Extras and Catherine Tate and then laughed my tits off at that cnut Craig on Big Brother (is it just me or does he remind anyone else of Gollum from LOTR?)
"my precious Anfoneeee"

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If you have any large summer gatherings to cater for soon then bear this recipe in mind:

In a cookbook called International Cuisine, presented by California Home Economics Teachers, 1983 (ISBN 0-89626-051-8), you will find:

Stuffed Camel

1 whole camel, medium size
1 whole lamb, large size
20 whole chickens, medium size
60 eggs
12 kilos rice
2 kilos pine nuts
2 kilos almonds
1 kilo pistachio nuts
110 gallons water
5 pounds black pepper
Salt to taste

Skin, trim and clean camel, lamb and chickens. Boil until tender. Cook rice until fluffy. Fry nuts until brown and mix with rice. Hard boil eggs and peel. Stuff cooked chickens with hard boiled eggs and rice. Stuff the cooked lamb with stuffed chickens. Add more rice. Stuff the camel with the stuffed lamb and add rest of rice. Broil over large charcoal pit until brown. Spread any remaining rice on large tray and place camel on top of rice. Decorate with boiled eggs and nuts. Serves friendly crowd of 80-100.

How very dare you!
Summer sluggishness has got the better of me. Tonight there is a fine double bill at the Nag Nag Nag Summer Lounge of The Readers Wifes and The Atomizer but at the moment Extras and The Catherine Tate Show on BBC2 actually look more attractive to me (well, I am 40 now). I’ll see how the day progresses and whether or not I get wet riding home. 11am and I’m craving liquorice allsorts but I shall resist and buy a sensible lunch in one hour. A colleague has just returned from Japan and I’m green with envy so I think I’ll join the European Coaster Club and hope that they organise another rising-sun rollercoaster tour in the near future. I’ve always refused to join such clubs as the members have always seemed a bit geeky (I mean, I love rollercoasters but I don’t go as far as researching how many pots of paint it takes to cover a 60 year old ride in a small family-run park in Western Ohio). Still, it’s nice to have a hobby, especially at my age.

Last week I was at the seaside and I was without a PC for 8 days so apologies if you've already seen this fun little toy.

G Force opened yesterday at Drayton manor Theme park near Birmingham. This coaster is unique in that it has several inversions but has no over-the-shoulder restraints (just a revolutionary new x-shaped lap bar) AND instead of a lift-hill riders are dragged up a vertical spike and then half way through a 360 degree loop before being released on the down slope of the loop. *Pop* group G4 officially opened the ride and as one of them is a bit on the lardy size it was a good opportunity to also publicise the 'big boy' seats that the cars have. In response to the worldwide boom in obesity the designers of the coaster have created seats and cars that will suit ALL sizes (remember how Darren and I couldn't ride together on the Cyclone at Coney Island last month?).
Scary pic and interview with designer here.

The holy trinity of woodies at Blackpool Pleasure Beach (as ridden by us last weekend).
The Big Dipper, The Grand National and The Rollercoaster (still without lapbars!)
(click to enlarge)

Anorak corner.
Critical analysis of The Big Dipper.

Critical analysis of The Grand National.

Critical analysis of The Rollercoaster.

Back at work after a week in Le Pool Noir. I spent the first five days painting walls and knotty pine. Lots of knotty pine. I wore down two brushes and got blisters on the palm of my right hand (NOT from that you minxes!). I gave Edward the dog a haircut and he went swimming everyday in the Irish Sea. Darren arrived for the last two days of the week so we rode rollercoasters, ghost trains and ferris wheels. We scoffed chips, pizza’s and crisp sandwiches and got drunk at the Las-Vegas-lite show Mystique. It was Scottish fortnight and you know what? Blackpool, ye cannae whack it!

I'll be here. You bring the frisbee.

London continues to sizzle in its heatwave and cycle shops have reported fantastic sales figures since last Thursday. I’ve not been on the tube since ‘then’ but that’s only because of the weather.
Our trip to NYC and the current hot-spell have made us re-evaluate our plans to attend Gay Days at Disney World next June as the heat makes us cranky. Anyway, how could Disney World get any gayer than it already is?
I’m going to Blackpool this Saturday for a week by the sea (cue drastic weather change) but Darren can’t make it till next weekend so just me and the dog till then.
The two-minute silence was well observed in London. The whole of Victoria Street came to a standstill, traffic stopped, pedestrians stopped, shops closed their doors and thousands of office workers stood on steaming pavements silently smoking their ciggies while wondering what to buy for lunch.
Darren was on a tube train yesterday and the lady sitting opposite him suddenly stood up, turned to face the windows, knelt on her seat and began chanting and praying in Arabic. Her fellow passengers looked at each other uneasily and politely waited for the big bang. There was none and she got off a few stations later. Religious tolerance eh. We’ll show ‘em!

If only I could afford to fly to San Francisco for the weekend.
*sigh*

Chesty Morgan is back on telly tonight in Streets Ahead. Sarah was in our street last summer to make this show. They tarted up the top end of the street (they needed it most) but that's not tonights show. I'll let you know when the episode featuring our street is aired as you may catch a glimpse of me and Edward heading to the park (or even of Darren knocking over one of the builders wheelbarrows in his car).

I know what I need to get me out of these doldrums - a pair of trainers with built-in rasta socks. Ta-daa! - the Carlo Gruber Adidas shoe (as revealed in lovely magazine site Sneaker Freaker, scroll down). Sweet! (Napoleon would love these).

War Of The Worlds was good. Tom was good. The special effects were very good, scary too. My Mum said it would have been an 'X' in the 70's. The first 'X' I saw at the pictures was a double bill of 'Scum' and 'The Brood'. I think I'd be about 16 and I was terrified while queuing up to get in. I don't think the old dear even looked at me as she took my 75p and punched me out a ticket. It worked the next week too as I went to see 'Dawn Of The Dead' (the holy grail of horrors at the time). 'The Exorcist', 'Exit The Dragon' and 'Dirty Harry' were all ticked off in the following months before the novelty wore off. I didn't realise at the time but the cinemas were dying a slow death and they were probably desperate for anyone's 75p (this was two or three years before video would finally choke the last breath out of the town centre flea-pit). Anyway, there was me over the moon to be doing something so 'adult' as getting into an 'X' rated movie 2 years early. Whereas todays kids start getting make-up, 'going out' clothes and drinking money for Christmas at 13, 14 and 15 and by 16 are giving their parents advice on hangover cures. I've said it before and I'll say it again: I got a Scalextric for my 16th birthday and I was thrilled to bits. What's the hurry kids?

I never cycle to work when it's raining but this morning I decided to brave the heavy drizzle as I really couldn't be bothered to walk for fifteen minutes to the underground station. The rain wasn't so bad and the new White Stripes album took my mind off my soggy crotch. As I reached the city borders I noticed an increased amount of folk on the pavements and when I got to Embankment and saw that Blackfriars, Temple and Westminster tube stations were closed I knew something was wrong. I took my headphones off and started to notice the constant whine of sirens. Police cars and ambulances were speeding up and down Embankment on their way to the various disaster scenes (though at the time I had no idea where they were heading). When I got to the office at 9.30 the cause of the explosions was still being given as 'power surges' on the underground. Not many folk had made it into work and those of us that were there just spent the morning watching the horror unfold online at the BBC News website. We were forbidden to leave our building until 2pm when permission was given for everyone to attempt to make their way home on non-existent public transport. I stayed till 5pm and then battled my way home across a road-blocked London.
I'm touched by all the e-mails I've received today asking if Darren and I are OK. Thanks for those and yes we are.

Tuesday was our final day and the weather was back to 'normal' ('normal' being 95 degrees and 90% humidity) after yesterdays rain. We took the subway to Brooklyn and then took a walk through chic new real estate hot-spot DUMBO. I'm sure DUMBO stands for something but haven't a clue what. We bimbled along the river and had an ice cream and then decided to get the water taxi back to lower Manhattan but after an hour it still hadn't arrived so we started the climb to the subway and there it was - Grimaldi's. Uber famous pizza joint and not yet full as it was only noon. We slipped into one of the last tables and ordered a large plain pie with half of it covered with anchovies (for Darren). Utterly scrumptious. The walls were plastered with pictures of politicians and movie stars chowing on down on Grimaldi pizza. We will always be indebted to the water taxi's shoddy timekeeping.

The Grimaldi pie, Darren eating the Grimaldi pie and Dave in DUMBO (click to enlarge)

We walked the pizza off across the Brooklyn Bridge back to Manhattan and took a quick shufty round Century 21 before heading back to the hotel to collect our bags and make our way to JFK on the subway for the evening flight. We had a great holiday and once again New York and New Yorkers showed us such a brilliant time. See ya next year.

Brooklyn Bridge, Looking towards Manhattan and my fella (click to enlarge)

We're up to Monday in the NYC trip report (if you're bored then come back on Thursday when it will all be over)
On Monday the morning news threatened rain so we prayed hard over our morning bagels in the hotel breakfast room (so hard that Darrens rosary snapped sending beads scattering over the slate floor). At noon our prayers were answered and an angry rain descended to wash the scum off the streets. Before this though we headed over to NYU to visit the Bobst library and this timely exhibition. We were the only ones at the exhibition for most of our time there, which was nice, and the collection of gay literature was interesting (especially the original letters from Bosey to Wilde). The Bobst library is a stunning building so poke your head round the door if you're passing.

The Bobst Library at NYU (click to enlarge)

When it rains in New York the weak head back to their hotels and the strong go shopping. We went straight from high-brow to crass by spending money in Tower Village Video on DVD's that we can't get at home (or even afford). I bought all three box sets of Strangers With Candy as I'm having a bit of a Sedaris phase and thought I should get to know Amy as well as David. Darren bought even more but he's too embarrassed to have them listed here (no, they're not mucky). We trekked East through SOHO with our heavy bags and finally found Moby's tea rooms, teany (tea in NY, geddit?). We went for the 'tea for 2' option which was a selection of vegan sandwiches, vegan scones with 'normal' clotted cream and little cakes all washed down with herbal fruity teas. Surprisingly tasty but unsurprisingly expensive (and he wasn't there to listen to me moan about his recent poor output).

The rain stopped as we left teany so we made for Manhattan Portage in SOHO where we oooo'd and ahhhh'd at the utilitarian masterpieces and bought a couple (very hard to find here in the UK so less guilt when handing over the credit card).
It was raining again as we left the posh shops of Soho so we went to the Movies. We saw Bewitched which was OK (spookily, Amy Sedaris has a cameo appearance in this film) and Heights which was OK too (it's near the end of the trip report and I'm reduced to capsule reviews of 'OK'). Heights would be good in a 'nasty-people-lacking-in-morals' double-bill with Closer. It was partly set in Chelsea so it was weird to see streets and shops that we had walked past a few hours earlier. After the movies we went to a diner near Carnegie Hall for supper and Jackie Mason came in for his dinner. He didn't recognise us.

Gotta stop sobbing on.
First it was Augusten Burroughs and one of his short pieces in Magical Thinking. Then on Saturday Bob brought out that beautiful African woman who nearly died as a baby and then Madonna kissed her. And today Tim Ashley made me sob pathetically while reading The Island Of Mending Hearts (the whole book in one sitting!). Cry baby. Must be my age.
I know I'm always recommending books 'n' stuff but the Tim Ashley book is utterly brilliant. Please beg, borrow, buy or burgle a copy.

There's nowt like twelve hours kip to revive the mind and body. Up and at 'em on Gay Pride day in NYC. We breakfasted at Moonstruck diner then ambled down 9th Ave at a snails pace because of the heat. This doggy spa and day care centre distracted us for half an hour as we watched the guests playfight on their leather sofas. Then we bumped into Lenny Kravitz as he sat on the kerb chatting with some pals waiting for equipment to be unloaded from a van. Into Greenwhich Village to rendevous with Joe and Terrence and watch the parade. The crowds were growing and good viewing places were drying up fast. We got to the agreed meeting point on time and then began saying "look, there's Joe" to each other. Darren accused me of pointing out every gay republican lawyer whenever I thought I saw Joe (I bet that flatters him. Not!). Joe and Terrence turned up fashionably late with a bunch of 'glamour boys' (you'll have to read the 'Terrence' stories to understand the significance of this). We were all introduced and then Hillary Clinton marched past. Joe and Terrence were great company. Joe was down to earth, funny and scarily on the same wavelength as me on so many issues. Terrence was suitably fabulous, witty and dripping with tales of fashion extravagance. The glamour boys melted into the crowds leaving only us four watching the parade in the baking sunshine but then Terrence insisted we slum it in a pizza parlour round the corner that he'd passed-out in the night before (and spilled melted cheese on his Balenciaga outfit). We kept quiet that we treated pizza as haute cuisine and readily agreed. Famous Rays was riddled with cops when we got there but we squeezed in beside them and ate gorgeous slices of spinach pizza.
The parade was still parading when we left Rays but we battled our way over to the river where we strolled with 30,000 black lesbians from New Jersey up to the Chelsea Piers. Joe and Terrence were going dancing (in that heat!) so we escorted them through the meatpacking district where the smell of poppers from the nearby disco on the pier became too much for Terrence and he ran off to find a different kind of 'slice' for the evening.
It's always nerve racking meeting someone you've only corresponded with on a PC but Joe and Terrence were fantastic company and hopefully we will see them again soon.

Joe. Terrence, Darren and Joe. Terrence is amused at flag wavers (click to enlarge)

Went to mow a meadow. Terrence points out a foxy spelling mistake. One legged Pucci tights are so in this year. (click to enlarge)

We went to the flix in the evening to see Batman Begins and it was most excellent. Apple pie a la mode at a diner near our hotel was our supper then we saw the Pride fireworks explode over the Hudson river. A cracking day out!

Guess what? Saturday was a baking hot day too! Luckily the subway in NYC is air-conditioned (is it that difficult Ken?) so the ride to Coney Island was nice. We took a stroll down the packed boardwalk but the piercing sunshine forced us into the shelter of Astroland fun park where we paid our $5 and rode the most famous rollercoaster in the world. The Cyclone has been running in Coney Island since 1927 only now it has lap-bars to prevent the 100 or so deaths it has caused to people who have not held on tightly enough. The first drop is just stunning. A near vertical plummet with a slight twist to the track to cause a bit of disorientation. Look at the terror on this kid's face as she falls through that first drop. The ride wasn't as bumpy or rickety as I'd expected (did I mention it's nearly 80 years old?) and surprisingly provided an extremely high thrill level compared with todays gigantic monsters. The cars are beautiful but a bit on the tight side for two larger gentlemen such as Darren and I. The introduction of the padded lap-bar has reduced space even more and it was a bit embarrassing to be told by the operator, as we attempted to squeeze into the tiny seat, that we couldn't ride together!
As I climbed out of the car following my ride I sat on a bench in the station and watched Darren hurtling around the track laughing like a lunatic.

Darren returning to the station, Dave in the station and why do they put their arms in the air? (click to enlarge)

In the afternoon we found a shady spot and watched The Mermaid Parade which is a freak-fest on a gigantic scale. Classic cars, naked folk, drunks, punk rock bands, dogs, and nutters all parading through the streets in a vaguely under-sea theme. The King of the parade this year was David Johansen from The New York Dolls (last year it was Moby).

Noisy cars which made the crowd whoop and holler and a lorry carrying drunks. (click to enlarge)

Naked chicks. (click to enlarge)

David Johansen, George Bush and a very cute Jack Russell. (click to enlarge)

The plan after the parade was to eat at a very famous pizza place in Coney Island called Totonnos ("only God makes better pizza") but when we finally found it there was a queue round the block so we headed for the comfort of the air-conditioned subway and made our way back to Manhattan. We had an early dinner at Dallas BBQ in Chelsea then went for a nap as we had plans for later that evening. We'd printed flyers before we left home for an evening of homo-punk-rock entertainment at CBGB's where we had tentative plans to meet up with BJ. The nap started at 7pm and mysteriously ended at 2am!!! Damn that daytime excitement and BBQ ribs! Ultrasparky did go to CBGB's and here's his report with great pics.